The Marquis Star
by GhostRower1209
Summary: Legendary detective Nero Wolfe and the New York Police Department need the services of the Mystery Inc. gang to solve strange goings on at a struggling Broadway theater. (I plan to keep this story true to both the Nero Wolfe canon (by Rex Stout) and the original "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?" (from Hanna-Barbera) while creating unique interactions among the characters.)
1. Chapter 1

THE MARQUIS STAR

CHAPTER I

"Open the door and let them in," growled Wolfe, to which I asked, "Should I leave on the chain, just in case what they want requires a warrant?" The grunt back to me was, "Such as what, Archie?" "Oh I don't know. Maybe the missing papers from that room with the dead body at the Ignatius Hotel, or perhaps the real pretty blonde currently admiring your orchids." Wolfe responded in exasperation, "Confound it! They wouldn't have a clue about those yet. Now answer the door!" I shrugged as I walked down the hallway, then greeted Inspector Cramer and Sgt. Stebbins. The always surly Inspector croaked, "Hello, Goodwin, Were you waiting for the hors d'oeuvres to cool before letting us in?" as he practically shoved his coat and hat into my chest. Keeping a blank expression on my face, I hung them up on the rack and followed them.

Entering Wolfe's office, the three of us took our usual positions – Cramer in the red leather chair, Stebbins standing guard at the door, and me sitting on the corner of my desk, notebook and pen in hand. "Good morning, Inspector," Wolfe said graciously. "My apologies for Archie's discourtesy. What can I do for you?" Cramer sneered back, "Are you kidding? I would think I was at the wrong house if I didn't have to stand out on the front stoop for several minutes. Anyway, I'm working on a case that I could really use your help with." Wolfe raised his eyebrows and said, "That surprises me, Inspector. You usually like to make a sport of keeping me and Archie as far away from your work as possible. Even so, please give me the details," and pressed the fingertips of his thick hands together.

Cramer began, "There's a Broadway theater near 49th call the Marquis Star, maybe you've heard of it." Wolfe shook his head, but I chimed in, "I have, although I've never seen a show there." "That's not a surprise, Goodwin," continued the Inspector, "I think just about everyone in New York can say that these days. They specialize in putting on classic musicals, you know, the ones where the actors keep their clothes on. Unfortunately nowadays, the audience for those kind of shows is drying up." Wolfe rang for a beer and said incredulously, "But Inspector, crimes involving a business in financial trouble, especially a theater, are routine for the police." Cramer pulled out an unlit cigar from his jacket and began rolling it around in his left hand.

"Normally, Wolfe, that's true, but nothing we've investigated so far follows the pattern. There have been incidents that seemingly cannot be explained – stage lights flickering on and off with no one at the switches, sound equipment getting damaged where it stands, actors and crew getting minor but significant injuries, mysterious gunk instantly appearing on the walls, and other weird stuff. Of course, these could be tricks by the people who hold the money on the place, especially if they are from the underworld, but our informants have heard nothing in their circles. And now the theater manager has disappeared! Yet every one of the staff and those closest to him personally are truly distraught and don't know of any enemies he might have. There have been so many times over the years I've said I feel like I'm chasing ghosts, but damn it, this time seems literal! I'm at my wit's end on this one."

Wolfe slammed his right hand on his desk and shouted, "Inspector Cramer, because your men are overlooking something blatantly obvious that will solve your case, you choose to blame the supernatural! How do you expect me to track down something I don't believe in? How could I possibly give you the effort you are claiming it would take? Besides, contrary to my well-established reputation, I am extremely busy with another case right now." Cramer put his cigar in his mouth and nearly chewed the end clean off, then screamed, "For God's sake, Wolfe, there ISN'T anything obvious! I've checked the theater as thoroughly as my men, even more so!" Wolfe, seeing Cramer's now wild eyes, exhaled heavily and said, "Inspector, I sincerely sympathize with your plight, but there is nothing I can do." Cramer responded, "Look, I hate to say this, because I know you and Goodwin could hold me over a barrel and laugh until you're blue in the face, but I'm BEGGING you to help me on this." Wolfe said solemnly, "The best I can do is take it under advisement. I can let you know my answer by tomorrow night. Good day, Inspector."

Cramer's cigar fell to the floor as his mouth dropped wide open, yet he couldn't say a thing. He then bent over to pick up the stogie, his glare sticking to Wolfe like flypaper, stood up with a jolt, tossed the cigar into the waste basket, walked around the chair and marched angrily through the hallway and out to the street, forgetting his coat and hat. Stebbins and I walked side-by-side several feet behind him. I handed Cramer's things to the dutiful sergeant , and he caught up with the Inspector at their car.

Stepping back into the office, I looked at Wolfe and said, "you know he's desperate, and if we don't soothe his desperation, we'll find ourselves desperate…to find work as unlicensed detectives." Wolfe closed his eyes and moved his lips in and out for a moment, then acknowledged my point. I suggested that he simply put our freelancers Saul Panzer, Fred Durkin and Orrie Cather on the case. He replied frowning, "Fred is nursing a broken leg from a job he did for someone else, Saul is even more disbelieving of the occult than I am, and just watch how much harder Orrie tries to replace you if he thinks you've gone off your rocker. Any other suggestions?" Half-heartedly I answered, "Well, I've heard rumors of some young people who investigate strange happenings. Maybe I can find out how to get in touch with them." Wolfe's eyes opened wide and he snapped, "Amateurs? You want me to work with rank amateurs? Do they actually believe in ghosts?" Blushing I said, "I think they are just curious about ghosts. But from what I've heard, the situations they've looked into have all turned out to be just people exploiting scary stories for money or land." Then jokingly I said, "maybe they'll hit pay dirt on this one. Shall I go for it?" Wolfe retorted with his standard "Phooey." I said, "It's either that or we sick skeptics on this case." Wolfe acquiesced with a heavy sigh. "Very well. I'll have Saul and Orrie take over the Vander horn file while you track down these kids. And Archie, you will be personally responsible for them!"

While my boss paid his afternoon visit to Theodore Horstmann and the orchids, I dialed the number I found in the Yellow Pages. The voice on the other end said, "Mystery Incorporated, Velma Dinkley speaking." I replied, "good afternoon, Miss Dinkley, my name is Archie Goodwin and I work for Nero Wolfe." She asked, "Is that spelled w-o-l-f?" I said, "w-o-l-f-E," then with a little swagger in my voice, "He is a private detective of some renown," to which she merely inquired, "And what can we do for Mr. Wolfe?" I explained our predicament and asked if she could send a representative to New York to meet with us. She said, "Actually, Mr. Goodwin, we are a small cooperative of five. Does Mr. Wolfe have enough room to meet with all of us?" Even though I had never heard of anything called a cooperative, I let her know that his office holds twelve and confirmed an appointment with them at 11:00 the next morning.

The next day started out pretty normal. I sat down in the kitchen and ate another magnificent Fritz Brenner breakfast of poached eggs, honey-glazed bacon and rye toast with an extra-large glass of milk. Once I was done, I took a plate and some orange juice up to our guest in the secure bedroom. Her platinum hair, piercing blue eyes and the night clothes she was wearing made me ask about her comfort and her case much more intently and longer than I should have. I then went down to the office to go through the mail and the newspapers. At around 10:35, I heard the doorbell. As I looked through the two-way mirror at the front door, I saw two men and two women, all in their late teens or early 20's and a large brown dog with black spots. I also saw behind them an interestingly painted van with the words "The Mystery Machine" written on the side.

I opened the door and the blonde-haired kid wearing a white and blue dress shirt and an orange ascot asked if I was Nero Wolfe. I told him I was Archie Goodwin and he introduced me to everyone. "Hi, I'm Freddy Jones, this is Daphne Blake," glancing behind his left shoulder at the cute redhead wearing a purple mini dress and green scarf. Turning his head the other direction, he continued by announcing a curly-haired brunette with thick glasses, a yellow turtleneck with matching knee-high socks and a red pleated skirt. "This is Velma Dinkley. You spoke to her on the phone. And finally in the back is Shaggy Rogers and our dog Scooby-Doo." Believe me when I tell you "Shaggy" is the perfect nickname for the young man with the frizzled brown curly hair, scruffy goatee, oversized green T-shirt and brown bell-bottoms. I said, "Miss Dinkley told me there were five of you. Where is the other member of your group?" Scooby-Doo then said, that's right, Scooby-Doo said, "Rat's re. Reh-ro," and laughed. Once he did this, I had to keep reminding myself that I hadn't touched any alcohol for three and a half days. Rogers stated that since Scooby is part Great Dane and part bloodhound, he was an invaluable part of the team.

I invited them into the office and let them know that Mr. Wolfe would not be available until 11:00. Jones replied, "that's okay, Mr. Goodwin. We're so early because New York traffic wasn't as bad as we had been led to believe." I insisted they call me Archie, and warned them that my boss is not the biggest fan of dogs.

The top of the hour rolled around and as Wolfe stepped off his elevator, he spotted Scooby-Doo and froze. He slowly turned his head and asked me through clenched teeth, "Archie, does that beast bite?" I matter-of-factly answered, "No sir, he does not. He talks, but he doesn't bite." Wolfe tried to correct me, "I believe you mean he barks." "Well sir, he may bark as well, but I mean talks…and yes, Mr. Wolfe, I only had milk with breakfast." Unable to respond, Wolfe pursed his lips and waddled over to his oversized chair and sat down.

When the members of Mystery, Inc. and I first went into the office, I placed Jones in the red leather chair to indicate to Wolfe that he was the leader of the group. Wolfe looked at him and asked him his name. Jones then did a similar introduction as the one he gave me at the front door. Wolfe then told him in no uncertain terms that he did not appreciate having a dog in his home. He told Jones that he is an orchid fancier and that he knows dogs love to eat orchids. At this accusation, Scooby-Doo protested, "Rorkids? Ruck! Riv re a reez-rurgher." Miss Blake turned to him and said teasingly, "Only one, Scooby?" Rogers replied, "More like a hundred, eh Scoob," and laughed. Scooby echoed, "Reh, ruh rundred," and sloppily licked his lips. Wolfe once again froze, then looked over at me. I tilted my head in a gesture that indicated "told you so".

Wolfe quickly composed himself and said, " getting back to the matter at hand, Mr. Jones, I want to make sure, you are the people who chase ghosts?" Jones replied, "Well, Mr. Wolfe, to be accurate, when we hear about trouble that might be supernatural, we go and investigate. We don't necessarily believe in phantoms and monsters. We just wonder if they could be real." Miss Blake added, "We also want to get scary things out of people's lives." Wolfe responded, "I am pleased to hear that. Archie and I brought you in here to do exactly that." Jones asked Wolfe what the problem was, and Wolfe relayed the story Inspector Cramer had told us the day before.

Miss Dinkley exclaimed, "Jinkies, Mr. Wolfe! We've worked with some small-town sheriffs that were not sure about what was going on, but for the head of the New York Homicide Division to be spooked…" Jones interrupted, "Yeah, that's right up our alley!" Wolfe seemed reassured at what they said, but he could not have been happy with Rogers' frequent interjections of "Zoinks!" or Scooby's constant whimpering. Miss Blake turned to them and snapped, "Will you two knock it off and pay attention? Jeepers, you're going to get us fired before we even start, and all Mr. Wolfe is doing is describing what's happening!" Wolfe said, "Thank you, Miss Blake."

We continued to go over details and strategies until Wolfe glanced at the clock and saw that it was 1:10. He then announced that lunch always starts at 1:15 and asked our new employees if there was a restaurant they wanted to go to. Rogers asked if there was a good malt shop around. I said uncertainly , "Malt shop…let me look." I grabbed the phone book and looked for the word "malt" first under restaurants, then under diners. I finally found a place called Charlie's on 58th Street. They all said in unison, "Groovy!" Wolfe then told them that he wanted me to go with them. He then turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, Archie. You know I don't like business being discussed during lunch, but with this being their first case, I want you to keep giving them guidance." Jones said that would be great and that there was room for me in the Mystery Machine. Wolfe then told the kids that he needed to talk to me for a moment, but that I would be out shortly.

As the Mystery, Inc. gang stepped outside, I said to Wolfe, "Did we hire ghost chasers, or the law firm of 'Jeepers, Jinkies and Zoinks'?" Wolfe answered, "Archie, your humor when you're hungry leaves a lot to be desired. Then again, your humor when you're not hungry leaves a lot to be desired. While you're out, please find a nice hotel where they can stay that accepts dogs. I also need you to find out about the financial and operational aspects of the Marquis Star. Now, please don't keep our young friends waiting. I'm sure you are looking forward to having a malted." I snorted indignantly, grabbed my light grey fedora, slammed it on my head and strolled out to the van.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

I finally got back to the brownstone around a quarter after six . Fritz intercepted me at the kitchen door and let me know that there had been no visitors and what was on the menu for dinner. I then continued to the office. Wolfe was engrossed in a book about the Arctic tern, a bird that migrates between the North and South Poles every year. I waited until I saw his fat finger turning the page before pressing my hands on the front of his desk and saying, "Shouldn't you be more interested in things closer to home, like what happened with our new young detectives?" Wolfe did not immediately respond. In fact, it was a good forty-five seconds before he put the book on the desk, grabbed the strip of gold he always uses for a bookmark, placed it inside and closed his latest fancy. With obvious annoyance he replied, "It cannot have taken you this long to obtain the information I asked you to get." With equal annoyance I shot back, "You're right about that. It was finding the accommodations for our friends that made me feel like I could have driven to the South Pole faster. Do you know how many hotels told us to get lost before one reluctantly agreed to take Scooby-Doo? And I'll wait until after dinner to tell you how much it will cost us." Wolfe's only reaction to what I said was a low grumble. After another moment, Wolfe snarled, "Fine, Archie, give me your report." I went over to my desk and sat down.

"Because we knew it would take forever to find a hotel, we decided to do some investigation first. Jones dropped me and Miss Dinkley off at the library, then the rest of them headed over to the Marquis Star to talk to anyone who might be there." Wolfe interrupted, "Why would Miss Dinkley want to go to the library?" "She wanted to research the history of the theatre. She hoped to find out if there was anything in the past that might have led to tales about what is going on now. She took some really detailed notes from what she found. I was very impressed." As I uttered this last statement, I saw the corners of Wolfe's mouth go up a full three-eighths of an inch. I squinted and said, "What…is so funny?" He answered, "A woman was more meticulous than you, Archie? That's impossible, even on your worst day. I'm surprised you're giving her such credit. I would have thought Miss Blake was more your type." In exasperation I replied, "It's not a matter of 'type'. I just took a quick glance at her notes and found them very thorough. Besides, Miss Blake is more my type. Now as I was saying, after about an hour and a half, the Mystery Machine picked us up, and we went on our wild goose chase for lodging. The gang will be here tonight to give their part of the report."

I then pulled three folded sheets of paper out of my shirt pocket and opened them. I told him these were mimeographs of the latest information about the Marquis Star and asked if he wanted full details or just a synopsis. He replied, "A synopsis is sufficient." I began, "The place is currently owned by two men, R. Ronald Thompson and Jonathan Saelkirk. They bought it from Jack and Doris Smithfield in 1956. I'm guessing they were a husband and wife team, but Miss Dinkley will probably shed better light on that." Wolfe answered, "She'd better. I want facts, Archie, not speculation. Meanwhile, please continue with what you learned." Clearing my throat, I resumed, "Anyway, Thompson and Saelkirk were able to take advantage of the Broadway revival and had a fair amount of success until around 1962. After that, much of the competition started getting stronger, then when the current fad in musicals that Inspector Cramer mentioned came along, the Marquis Star's slide got worse. They're still hanging on, but they have taken on some hefty loans over the past nine months or so."

I folded the papers back up and leaned back in my chair with my hands behind my head. Wolfe said, "Satisfactory. Please place the documents in the safe then get yourself ready for dinner," as he rang for another beer. I turned the combination lock, threw the papers in and closed the door, then headed upstairs to wash up. Having suffered through a greasy cheeseburger and fries, a piece of lemon meringue pie that had been spinning in a glass case for who knows how long and, yes, a malted at lunch, I rejoiced at now seeing the veal and capers in a white wine and mango reduction with corn fritters awaiting me at the dining room table. I finished off two full servings, eating a little too fast for Wolfe's sensibilities.

Our mystery crew arrived just after eight o'clock and sat in the exact same chairs they did in the morning. Fritz served Wolfe his beer, me my usual glass of milk, iced tea to Jones, Rogers and Miss Dinkley, ginger ale to Miss Blake, and a large urn of water to Scooby-Doo. Wolfe then prompted Jones to begin.

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Wolfe, we almost didn't get into the theatre. As we got to the stage door, we were confronted by Sgt. Stevens? Or Steffen?" I interjected, "I think you mean Stebbins. Does he look like a gorilla that is trying to act like a Buckingham Palace guard?" "Yes that's him. Stebbins you said?" "Yeah, S-t-e-b-b-i-n-s." Jones turned back to Wolfe and continued, "I told him we were working with you. He was over the top in the way he showed that he didn't believe us. I told him he could call you and check. He reluctantly called another officer over and told him to do so." Wolfe confirmed that the officer had called, then said, "What happened once you were in the theatre?"

"Well, the officer took us over to the watchman, named Cliff, and we asked him to show us some of the stuff that had happened." I immediately cut in, "Hold on a second, Jones. As I said at Charlie's, I need every detail, including what people look like." He continued, "Sorry, Archie. Cliff is about 55 or 60 with an average build and short grey hair. He also has a nose like Scrooge, and he was wearing a light blue dress shirt and a typical blue security guard outfit. He also looks like he does the work so he won't be bored." I nodded and thanked Jones. "He first took us over to the other side of the theatre and began waving his arms back and forth as he explained, 'Like I told the cops, during the last few shows, pale green splotches would appear out of nowhere on this wall right here,' yet as he said this, none of us could see anything unusual. He then took us down front and onto the stage. He pointed at a specific spot and told us it was where a sandbag had fallen during a performance."

Miss Blake picked up the story, "Then a voice behind us said, 'Yeah, and almost took out our leading man!' We turned around and saw one of the actors, Tyler Matson. He's around six feet tall with a muscular build, determined brown eyes and jet black hair. I think he's in his 30's. He said the sandbag fell about ten days ago less than a foot from where the star of the show, a man named Steve Spencer, was standing. Cliff asked him, 'Why are you here? There's no rehearsal tonight.' Matson answered, 'I needed a touch-up on my dye job. If I'm going to pass myself off as Steve, being two inches shorter can be the only noticeable difference, so medium brown hair won't cut it.'"

Jones took back the narrative, "So I asked what happened to Spencer. Cliff answered, 'He was obviously rattled by the sandbag, but kept doing the show. Then when Mr. Roderick went missing, Steve decided he'd had enough, and left. Tyler's been filling in ever since.' Mr. Roderick is the theatre manager Alfie Roderick, who, as you know, disappeared a couple of days ago." I thanked Jones for his name and added it to my notes.

At this point, Wolfe rang for another beer. Seeing Fritz come out after hearing the bell, Scooby-Doo looked at him, pointed his front right paw down at the now empty urn and said, "Rawter,rawter." Wolfe barked at our canine friend, "Scooby-Doo! Mind your manners!" Scooby bowed his head and answered meekly, "Rorry. Rawter, reze." Fritz nodded, retrieved the urn and returned with it a moment later. Miss Dinkley chuckled and said, "Jinkies, Mr. Wolfe, you must be related to Dr. Pavlov." Wolfe replied snobbishly, "Miss Dinkley, I am Montenegrin. I would not be caught dead having a Russian relative, even one so renowned." Jones, Rogers and Miss Blake looked completely confused at that remark, and Rogers asked, "What do you mean 'Montenegrin'?" Miss Dinkley looked back and explained, "Montenegro used to be an independent country, but now it's part of Yugoslavia." Wolfe's eyes opened as wide as possible as he said, "I'm amazed, and quite pleased, that you know this. Archie also told me he was impressed with the research you did at the library. Please report what you discovered."

"Well, Mr. Wolfe, I went there to get a complete history of the theatre and to find out about any curses or deadly mishaps which may have befallen it at some point in the past. A man named Lawrence Smithfield opened the Marquis Star in 1893. He had five children, two boys and three girls. When World War I ended, he was ready to retire, so he passed it down to his sons Charles and Marion. It seems his timing was impeccable. The Broadway Boom started not too long after the transfer, and from what I read, the theatre needed two young men to run it, rather than a middle-aged one. Things were going so well that the Smithfield Brothers had planned to expand the theatre's size and schedule. Unfortunately, they had a falling out with the star of the musical running at the time, and they fired him. His name was Kenneth Bradford and he swore as he stormed out that he would haunt the Marquis Star after his death. Of course, they didn't take his threat seriously, but his leaving forced the show to close, and it was about a month before the next one was ready to open. As you know, when the Great Depression hit, all of Broadway nearly disappeared, but the Marquis Star was one of the few venues to survive, and things picked back up after World War II. At this point though, Charles and Marion were just about ready to get out of the business themselves, so in 1952, Charles gave his half of the theatre to his oldest son Jack, and Marion gave his to his only child, a daughter named Doris."

Wolfe confirmed, "So then Jack and Doris are cousins." Miss Dinkley nodded, and Wolfe shot me a quick scowl. Miss Dinkley resumed, "Soon after taking over, Doris Smithfield met a financier from San Francisco who asked her to marry him. Since Jack didn't want to run the theatre by himself, he and Doris sold it to the current owners that I'm sure Archie told you about." Wolfe answered, "Satisfactory. He did indeed. Thank you for your report."

Miss Dinkley quickly said, "I'm not done yet, Mr. Wolfe." Wolfe responded, "My apologies, Miss Dinkley. Please finish." "As I mentioned, there was an actor named Kenneth Bradford who swore revenge on the Marquis Star. It turns out that he died five months ago, and the strange things happening now started on the anniversary of his firing." Naturally, this prompted a yelp of "Zoinks!" from behind her, to which Wolfe said sharply, "Control yourself, Mr. Rogers!" He then checked with Miss Dinkley, "Is that everything?" "Yes, sir." "Let me ask you, where did you read about Kenneth Bradford's passing?" "It was in a current trade magazine called Broadway Weekly. It was actually a full story in the obituary section, titled 'Disgraced Roaring 20's Actor Dies', and it went into detail about the scandal." Wolfe followed up, "Then anyone working at the Marquis Star could know about it." He then closed his eyes and began moving his lips in and out. Miss Dinkley tried to say something, but I put my hand up to stop her and said, "He's deep in thought right now and won't hear you anyway."

With some amusement, I sat back and watched as Scooby and company stared transfixed at our boss for a full ten minutes until he opened his eyes again. "Mr. Jones, you said that according to the guard, there was no rehearsal today. Did you learn when the next one would be?" "Sorry, Mr. Wolfe, I was so caught up in what Cliff was showing us that I forgot to ask." "No matter. Archie, please call the theatre tomorrow morning and see if you can find out." I asked him what watching the performers rehearse would show us, to which he replied, "Confound you! If there is rehearsal tomorrow, you can talk to everyone who works there, and if not, you can walk around the entire theatre without being disturbed. Either way, I want all of you there tomorrow morning. In the meantime, would any of you like to go up to the fourth floor and see my orchid collection?" Miss Blake and Miss Dinkley took Wolfe up on his offer. Wolfe turned to me and said, "Archie, please call up to Theodore and make sure the plant rooms are available." I picked up the receiver and dialed. A moment later, I hung up and nodded to Wolfe. He got up and moved his seventh of a ton over to his elevator as I escorted the girls up the stairs. I then went back to the office to talk to Jones, Rogers and Scooby-Doo.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER III

As Wolfe and Fritz ascended the elevator with a new shipment of Vanda Dearie, whose color exactly matched the canary yellow tent that Wolfe calls his pajamas, I went through the morning mail. There were a couple of invoices I had to write checks for and an update from Saul. Once I was done with those, I looked up the number for the Marquis Star and dialed to see if the box office was open. A bubbly voice told me it was. I also asked if there was going to be rehearsal and she told me no. I thanked her and hung up, then got ahold of Jones at the hotel. Not knowing what might happen at the theatre, I loaded a fresh clip into my .32 and slung the holster over my shoulder.

About an hour later, the Mystery Machine pulled up in front of the brownstone and we headed over. When I tried to explain to the girl at the ticket window that we were detectives investigating the spooky stuff, she scoffed and said, "Now you look like Dick Tracy, only much cuter, but your pals there look like rejects from the Village." She glanced at Miss Dinkley and added, Although Sherlock Holmes could have used Miss Curly's glasses there." I told her with a growl to go get Cliff and he would clue her in. Rolling her eyes, she sighed, "All right," then went inside. A couple minutes later, she came out with the guard and I introduced myself and Miss Dinkley.

Inside, the place had the look and smell of a venue that had seen its better days. Some of the paint on the walls was an obvious yet feeble attempt to cover small cracks, the chairs were definitely of a bygone style, and the floor had the stickiness of many a spilled soda. As we walked down the center aisle, Jones flipped his hand at the wall to our left indicating it was where the splotches had been supposedly appearing, and I asked Cliff if there was anyone else we could talk to. He said the stage hands were working on sets backstage and offered to get them. "How many are there?" "Three…Sam, Joe and Mike." I told him we would like to talk to them one at a time, and he headed off. While we were waiting, I noticed Miss Blake tugging at a long white thread sticking out of one of the seats. I said curiously, "Why are you trying to unravel that chair?" Startled, she stood and faced me, and replied, "I wasn't! This thread doesn't match the rest of the material, so I wanted to pull it out and take a closer look. It might be a clue." "It might also be from a mink coat of somebody who saw a show here twenty years ago." "Either way, shouldn't it be checked out? You keep telling us we need to be thorough."

Before I could respond, I felt a tug on my jacket sleeve. I turned around and there was Cliff with a large muscular man who had dark brown bushy hair. He was wearing a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and overalls. He was sweating and puffing like he had just been moving half the exhibits in the Guggenheim Museum. Cliff said, "This is Sam. He is the senior stage hand. He can tell you about a lot more stuff than I could." I thanked Cliff and told him he could go back on his rounds. He nodded, then disappeared through the door to the lobby as I took out my notebook.

"So you want to know my take on all the weird stuff," Sam said gruffly. I nodded and he continued, "Let's make this quick, huh? Joe and Mike are waiting for me at the doughnut shop. Union rules, you know," giving me a dirty look at that last point. I exhaled and retorted, "I'm a private detective, not from the Labor Board." Angrily he snapped, "You're nothing but a cop without a badge! Why should I answer your questions? The boys and I were just making major repairs to the sets because of these so-called ghosts…yet again. It's become as regular as using the john." Miss Blake cut in innocently, "But won't you lose your jobs if this keeps up?" "You know, you got a great point there, Red. Yeah, I guess we would at that." "Well, we're only trying to stop this, so how about just helping us?"

Sam relaxed and told Miss Blake, "As I said, someone keeps vandalizing the stage sets, not just for the current show, but even the ones in storage. Me, Joe and Mike got to keep fixing them instead of working on the ones for the next play coming in. The strange thing is that no one but Cliff has been here when this has happened, and he ain't nowhere near strong enough to do that kind of damage. Of course, that's on top of what's been going on during shows and rehearsals." Miss Blake then asked, "Would we be allowed to look at the sets?" After thinking for a moment, Sam said, "I guess it would be all right. Sure thing, Red." I chimed in, "Can you think of anything else strange that you or the guys have seen or heard?" "Tel you what, let me get my coffee and doughnut and talk to the boys, and I'll let you know." I said, "You got it," and he started heading toward a side entrance. As he was leaving, he joked, "Hey, buddy, you should always use a cutie like that to give guys the third degree," and laughed heartily. Rogers called after him, "Hey, could you bring us back some doughnuts?", with Scooby repeating, "Reh, roanuts!" Sam yelled back, "Sure thing." Miss Dinkley looked at them, crossed her arms and said, "Isn't there any time you don't think about food?" Scooby replied, "Ro," and both he and Rogers laughed mischievously.

Slightly annoyed, Miss Blake blurted, "That guy's pretty frank about what he thinks of me." Jones added, "That seems to be the case about a lot of guys in New York." He and I then stared daggers at each other for a minute. I then said, "Look, we are now by ourselves, so we should start investigating." Jones said, "Great idea. Velma, you, Shaggy and Scooby take a look around backstage. Daphne, Archie and I will look around here." I responded sarcastically, "Yes, boss." Jones smiled nervously and said, "Sorry, Archie. I've always done that on the mysteries we've handled before." I smiled and said, "Don't worry about it. You're used to being the leader."

Once the others had gone, I asked Jones if he had touched the wall with the splotches or just looked at it. He said, "Just looked," so I suggested that we run our hands over it to see if we notice any difference in texture. The three of us did so, but could not detect any discrepancies. We then walked up onto the stage. Jones and I inspected the floor, and Miss Blake checked the curtain by closing it, running her hands over it, then opening it again. I looked up and noticed a frayed rope. Because it was so high up, I couldn't tell if it had been cut or broke on its own. Jones saw me and looked up at it as well, saying, "Is that the rope the sandbag fell from?" "I can't tell from here. I'll need a ladder to get a better look at it."

Miss Blake then asked, "Do you think we should check all of the chairs for strings like the one I found?" I said, "I don't think we'll find anything, but we may as well. We have the time, and as I've said before, we want to be thorough." I also told Jones and Miss Blake that if they found any, to let me know the row and seat numbers. Miss Blake went back and did so for the original chair, where she had left her purse. We had been checking for about ten minutes when all of a sudden, the house lights started flickering on and off, the spotlights came on and started moving around, a loud calliope started playing, sinister laughter filled the theatre, and the green splotches appeared. I saw a shadow moving by what I thought was the front left of the stage, so I drew my gun and fired. As I did, I heard Miss Blake scream!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

The blinding lights and deafening noises just kept going, yet through it all I heard Jones's repeated panicked shouts of "Daphne!" I just stood there frozen, scared and bewildered, not knowing what to do. Then suddenly, everything returned to normal. Once my eyes adjusted, I looked around and saw Miss Blake lying face down in the aisle right next to one of the seats. Jones, who had been standing in the middle of a row, saw her at the same time and worked his way over to her. I put my gun back in its holster and started to do the same, which made him bark wild-eyed at me, "You stay away from her, Archie! You've done enough already!" "I didn't shoot her, Jones!" She was behind me and I fired at the stage." "How do you know? How could you know? With the spotlights flying around and shadows moving everywhere…" We then heard Miss Blake start to moan. Jones knelt down beside her and asked, "Daphne, are you okay? Where did he hit you?" "Where did who hit me?" "Archie. He shot you." "No one shot me, Freddy. I was trying to get to the aisle and tripped on the chair. You know me…'Danger-Prone Daphne'." She rolled over, slowly sat up and continued, "Look, I'm not bleeding. I just turned my ankle. Oof! And I guess I banged my head, too," as she put her hand just above her right temple.

Just then, Cliff came marching in. I glared at him and asked pointedly, "Where have you been the past several minutes?" "Doing my rounds. Remember you said I could do that?" "I was upstairs checking the mezzanine level." "You didn't hear what was happening in here?" "Of course I did, but what was I supposed to do, leap from the balcony like Errol Flynn? I'm used to it now, so I didn't lose my mind about it." "That's true, you know exactly how it works." "If you've got something to say, Mister, spit it out!" I muttered, "Never mind." "Yeah, I didn't think so. Is that how you're going to solve this mystery, by accusing people at the drop of a hat? I got down here as quick as I could."

After a few seconds of Cliff, Jones and me staring each other down, I heard Scooby-Doo running up from behind me yelling, "Raff-ree! Raff-ree!" He then gave Miss Blake a big, sloppy kiss. She responded, "Aw, thanks Scooby. I'm okay." Jones added, "Good boy, Scooby, but I think what she needs right now is ice." Cliff offered to get some and headed back out to the lobby. Miss Dinkley then asked, "What's going on?" Rogers said, "Yeah, we like heard something that sounded like wind and thunder. We thought it was starting to pour outside." Jones told him, "That was ghostly wailing and a gunshot," to which Rogers exclaimed his usual "Zoinks," and Scooby blurted, "Ruh?" Jones resumed, "Yes. All that stuff that Cliff said has been happening just happened, and Archie tried to stop it by firing his gun at shadows. I thought he'd actually shot Daphne." At this news, Scooby dashed back over to Rogers and jumped into his arms, and they were both shaking visibly. Seeing them like that, Miss Dinkley rolled her eyes and whispered, "Oh brother."

Cliff returned and wrapped a cold towel around Miss Blake's ankle and gave her an ice pack to press against the bump on her head. I felt a shiver down my spine watching this. I quickly turned to ask Miss Dinkley what she, Rogers and Scooby found backstage, but I didn't hear her answer. I didn't even think to take out my notebook. Instead, I began reliving the moment when I drew and fired my gun. So many questions went racing through my mind until I heard Scooby barking to get my attention. Annoyed, Miss Dinkley asked, "Are you listening to me, Archie?" "I'm sorry. I guess I'm still shaken about what happened. Let's take a break and we'll get back to this in a bit."

Jones helped Miss Blake into the chair she had tripped over, and the rest of us sat down as well. After what seemed like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, we heard one of the side exit doors open and close. It was Sam returning from his break. He held up two paper bags and announced, "As I promised, I brought you guys back some doughnuts and coffee!" I asked him how much we owed him and he told me not to worry about it. He then noticed Miss Blake and asked, "Hey, what happened to you, Red?" She answered with a slight chuckle, "Oh, I just tripped over this chair," patting the armrest with her left hand. "How did you do that?" "I was trying to run away when the strange things started up." "Oh wow! Are you guys okay?" We all nodded or mumbled "yes". He then said, "Well, this should make you feel better," and handed the bags to me and Jones. "I got to catch up with the boys, so we'll talk later." As he was walking away, Scooby yelled out, "Rank roo!" "Sure thing! Man, you guys who do the dog costume shtick are hysterical!" Indignantly, Scooby asked us, "Rut ruzzy reen 'rossrume'?" As Jones and I were opening the bags, I noticed Miss Dinkley look sharply at Rogers and Scooby as she said, "There are a dozen doughnuts and six of us. That means two for each of us, and no more." As Scooby whined, she reiterated, "Two each, no exceptions."

After we ate, I asked Miss Dinkley and Rogers to tell me again what they found backstage, although I had to keep fighting to stay focused. Miss Dinkley led off, "When we walked behind the stage, we saw a hallway. We followed it down and noticed it led to the dressing rooms. We went from door to door, but all of them were locked." I looked over at Cliff and asked him if that was normal. He responded, "That's become standard procedure lately…for obvious reasons." Miss Dinkley continued, "The last door on the left had an 'Exit' sign above it, and we decided to open it. There were winding stairs going down, so we took them. We found ourselves under the stage, where there were a whole bunch of knobs and levers." I inquired if she or Rogers had touched any of them. Rogers chimed in, "I like twisted a few of the knobs and Scooby pulled one of the levers. I got to say, the noises that Fred called…[gulp]…'ghostly wails' began just after I started playing with those knobs." This jolted me to attention. "Then you could have caused some of what we experienced." "Yeah, like I think so. Sorry about that, like I said, I thought it was a storm." "Don't be sorry. You might have given us a lead. When did you hear the gunshot, by the way? " "Right after Scooby pulled the lever." Miss Blake spoke up, "Shouldn't we find out if Those controls are linked to what happened?" I looked back at her and said, "Absolutely," but felt another flush of shame when I did.

To give Miss Blake more time to recover, I asked her and Jones to stay where they were. I told Miss Dinkley to stand on the stage and stomp her foot if anything weird occurred while Rogers, Scooby and I were underneath. The hidden room had the same dimensions as the stage above. It had three very thick mattresses on the floor placed a few feet apart from each other, and some rather long poles tucked into one of the corners. I took one of those poles and banged it on the ceiling. Miss Dinkley stomped in reply. Rogers pointed out the wall that had the knobs. They were in two rows of four. The levers, numbering three, were just to the right of the knobs, and there was an intercom speaker at the top of that wall. I instructed Rogers to turn each dial one at a time slowly in both directions. The two leftmost knobs spun smoothly, and the others clicked as they were turned, with the one on the bottom right only turning clockwise, yet none of them brought a response from Miss Dinkley. I then gave Scooby the go-ahead to pull the levers. When he pulled the second one, we heard another scream, both through the speaker and behind us. When we turned around, we saw Miss Dinkley lying on her back on one of the mattresses. The levers open trap doors, and Miss Dinkley just happened to be standing on the middle one.

Rogers asked her if she was okay, and she nodded. Then she said, "But I've lost my glasses. I can't see anything without my glasses." I spotted them on the floor next to the mattress, ran over and gave them to her. She then climbed off the mattress and said, "Jinkies, I fell through a trap door. That's usually Daphne's forte," as I thought dejectedly to myself that I was batting a thousand with keeping these girls safe. I said, "Look, we'd better get back upstairs to show the others that Miss Dinkley's all right." Once we were back in the main part of the theatre, Jones said coldly, "At it again, Archie?" Miss Blake chided him, "Freddy, stop it. Accidents happen," to which he quipped, "Yeah, especially with him around." Scooby tried to defend me, "Rut ry ropened ruh rap roar." "At Archie's command!" I shot back, "And I suppose every case you've led went perfectly! You kids had them wrapped up in thirty minutes with no problems!" Jones retorted, "That's right, we did!" This made the others all go, "Huh?"

Miss Blake pulled the ice pack away from her head, looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Don't listen to him, Archie. We've hit all kinds of snags on our adventures. Scooby has been dognapped, Velma has lost her glasses and mistook the monster for a policeman or a park ranger, and Shaggy has tried to blend in with the scenery, only to give himself away with a sneeze. I was even hypnotized by someone threatening a circus as a ghost clown. He made me change into a ballerina outfit and ride around on a unicycle. Even when we'd set a trap, the creeper would find us out and start chasing us until he made a mistake and got caught in it anyway." Rogers then added jokingly, "But like it would still take us just thirty minutes," and they all laughed, except Jones.

To get us back on track, I said, "Anyway, guys, we still have work to do. We need to catch up with the stagehands and look at the damaged sets. Miss Blake, Miss Dinkley, you stay here, and Scooby can keep an eye on you. Jones, Rogers and I will go backstage." As we walked, we started hearing the sound of hammering and buzz saws, which continued to get louder. When we got close, Sam spotted us and came over. "Hey, fellas, wait there a second and I'll get the boys to stop working."

Less than a minute later, the noises stopped and we went into the workroom. "This is Joe," Sam said pointing his open left hand at a balding, stocky man of medium height. Sam continued, "And over there is Mike," a fairly tall man whose hair was as blonde as Jones's. "Fellas, these are some of the people I told you about. You know, the ones who are trying to figure out the weird things." Very sarcastically, Mike scoffed, "What, you guys got a crystal ball or some magic powder to figure it out?" I took note of the fact that his accent sounded a lot like Fritz's, only heavier. I then said to him sternly, "No, we're using things we find here in the real world." He interrupted, "Good luck with that, buddy." I finished my point, "That's why we want to look at the damage and repairs to the sets in here, and Sam said we could."

I asked Jones to work with Sam and Rogers to talk to Joe while I dealt with our Swiss friend. Mike hissed, "I'm Norwegian, buddy. Get it right." Sam snapped at him, "Knock it off, Mike! They're here to help us, so you'd better cooperate with them! You've been real surly since the cops showed up a couple days ago, and I'm getting damn tired of it!" Mike turned his head and grumbled, "Fine."

When the three of us were done talking with the stagehands, we went back into the seating area to compare notes. Jones and Rogers had each inspected two sets, and with Mike being so bullheaded , I only got a full look at the one he was fixing. He told me it was the latest victim of the vandalism. He showed me where several nails and screws had been ripped out, how the paint on one panel was scraped off beyond repair, and the outside section where the top right corner had been ripped away. He was in the middle of disassembling the set so that the two sections could be remade from scratch. I noticed a pile of what appeared to be badly damaged set pieces lying on the floor behind him. In his most stand-offish tone, he told me they were just scraps and none of my concern. At that point, I wasn't in the mood to pick a fight, so I just thanked him and waited for Jones and Rogers to finish.

Jones told me the first set Sam showed him had one section that looked like it had been attacked with a knife or hatchet, and that most of the hinges had been removed. Most of the second one had been spray painted with a yellow-green paint, and the part that wasn't had a huge hole punched through the middle of it.

Rogers saw a set that needed to be scrapped because it was totally full of drill holes. He said that Joe was really down about having to do all the work to rebuild it. The other set had had the point of a knife blade run across it. There was even a spot where it etched an image of a devil smoking a cigar. Joe hoped he could just sand it down and touch up the paint. Rogers then told me and Jones about a strange moment. He said that he caught a glimpse of a folded piece of paper taped to the back of that second set. "When I asked Joe about it, he quickly grabbed the paper, stuffed it in his shirt pocket and smiled at me nervously, saying, 'It's nothing.'" I asked, "Did it look like an invoice? Was it pink or yellow?" "No, it looked like it was torn from a notebook, like the one you got, Archie, only smaller."

Once we were done recapping, I said there wasn't any more we could do at the theatre, and that we should head back to give Mr. Wolfe our report. Jones looked at me sourly and said, "I'm sorry, Archie, but we can't do that right now. We're way late for lunch, then we need to go back to the hotel and talk about stuff." I replied, "Okay, can you at least drive me back to the brownstone?" Jones shook his head and answered, "You'll have to find your own way back." Stunned, I said, "All right, Jones, it's your van." Miss Blake then stood up, put her hands on her hips and snapped, "Come on, Freddy," with Scooby echoing, "Reh, rum ron, Reddy." I looked at her and said, "That's okay. I'll just hail a cab," then headed outside.

My anger at Jones, and honestly at myself, grew to a boil the closer the taxi got to West 35th Street. It took the hack pounding on the back of his seat to make me realize we were there. I apologized and gave him a nice tip for his troubles. When I stepped in, Fritz saw me and exclaimed, "Archie, you look a wreck." "Then I'll postpone my magazine photo shoot. Where's Wolfe?" "In the office, of course, but you should eat lunch first." I ignored the last comment and stormed down the hall.

I threw the office door open and snarled, "Mr. Wolfe, I've got a hell of a report to give you!" He looked at me for a second, then moved his gaze to the button on his desk and pressed it twice. I wobbled over to my chair while Fritz was coming in. As Wolfe took the bottle of beer, he said to our cook, "Also, bring Archie a double bourbon neat." "I'm fine, Mr. Wolfe!" "Fritz, please do as I ask." Wolfe then looked at me again and continued, "Archie, you will quickly finish off your drink before I listen to a word you have to say." Fritz returned and placed the glass in front of me. When I took it in my hands, I noticed they were shaking. It took four swigs to empty the glass.

Panting, I began, "When we got there, Cliff introduced us to the head stagehand, Sam, who wanted to bite my head off for simply asking about what he knew. Miss Blake…was able to calm him down so that he answered a few questions before going on his coffee break." "Why did you cringe when you said her name?" "I'm getting to that! Let me tell it like I want to! Anyway, we were looking around the theatre for about a half hour when all the things that Cramer and Cliff talked about made their grand entrance. There was even a giant shadow slinking across the stage…or at least I thought it was the stage. I got spooked and shot at it. When everything suddenly stopped, I saw Miss Blake lying on the floor not moving." "Was she the shadow?" "She wasn't. Well, I was pretty sure she wasn't, but Jones had other ideas. He screamed at me like a madman to stay away from her! I told him I shot at the stage, but he asked me how I knew that."

Wolfe looked at me sternly, pressed his fingers together and calmly said, "Archie, it is very unlike you not to be certain of a situation. It is also unlike you to be so careless. Even if you did shoot toward the stage, that shadow could have been any of our young sleuths, or someone who you didn't know was also at the theater. Jones was justified for being upset. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't want to work for us any longer." As I glumly looked at him, I told him that I had to take a cab back, to which he nodded. He then continued, "For whatever reason, you are quite out of sorts. You obviously have not had lunch yet, either, and that is your first order of business." "I'm not hungry." "Make yourself hungry, Archie. When you are done eating, you need to explain to me how you knew you were facing the stage when you fired your gun. You also need to convince me that you are still a reliable detective. I cannot afford to keep someone who makes dangerous mistakes in my employ. And of course, after all that, you need to give me the rest of your report." As I stared at him with my arms crossed, he said, "Now if you'll excuse me, Theodore needs me up in the plant rooms to inventory the new orchids," got up and waddled over to his elevator. As the doors opened, he turned back to me and said, "I expect to hear from you well before breakfast."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER V**

Wolfe stepped off his elevator and went straight into the kitchen. After ten minutes, he came back into the office and sat in his oversized chair. "Thank you for arranging the chairs as I requested, Archie. Now, get Jones on the phone and let me know when I should pick up my extension." I dialed the hotel and asked for the young man I had butted heads with the previous day. When I was placed on hold, I gave Wolfe the high sign while I kept the receiver to my ear.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones. I hope you had a nice evening," Wolfe said graciously. "I understand you and Archie clashed yesterday at the theater. I would like you to come over and the three of us can talk about it." Jones replied, "I'm sorry, Mr. Wolfe, but with everything that happened, I think me and the gang should just head off four our next adventure." Wolfe pursed his lips and said sharply, "Mr. Jones, I hired you to do a job, and while I can understand why you may not wish to continue, I believe I am entitled to the respect of a face-to-face meeting to discuss it." "Okay, we'll be over in about an hour." Wolfe sniffed and clarified, "I would rather you come alone." Jones sighed and answered, "We'll see," then hung up.

Out of habit, I started toward the hallway when the doorbell rang. Wolfe caught my attention by clearing his throat, and I sat down in one of the two yellow leather chairs in front of his desk. From what I heard, all five of them had shown up. Fritz really had to work to get Rogers, Scooby and the girls into the front room, then escort Jones into the office.

"Mr. Jones, welcome. Please sit down," Wolfe said pointing his open palm at the other yellow chair. Frowning, Jones tentatively approached it and took his place. "Mr. Wolfe," Jones said in an agitated voice, "I don't like having to come here so that you and Archie can give me the third degree…" Wolfe pounded his fat fist on his desk and barked, "Mr. Jones, you are my guest and my employee! You will not talk to me in that manner! If you notice, I have you and Archie in the same position. He is not at his desk looking down on you, or in the red chair. I need both of you to tell me what happened as you each saw it so that I can determine the best course of action for this case. Archie came home last night a complete mess, and now you come here with such a chip on your shoulder, I'm surprised you're not walking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame! Archie has given me some information. Now it's your turn. What happened to put you two at loggerheads?" Jones just sat there sulking and staring at the floor until finally Wolfe said with clenched teeth, "Mr. Jones, I'm waiting."

"Alright. We were all looking around the theater when the eerie things you've heard about started. One of those things was a gunshot. When things got back to normal, I saw Archie with his gun in his hand and Daphne lying on the floor not moving. I thought he had shot her! I ran over to her and told Archie to stay away so he couldn't do anything else to her. He said he wasn't even facing her when he fired, but how could he know with all that was going on? I think I was right to be upset!"

Wolfe replied, "Yes, I can understand that, but I must ask you, how did you know he _was_ facing her when he shot his gun? Are you really telling me those crazy events didn't affect you as well?" "Of course they did, but _I_ hadn't pulled out a deadly weapon. I should have known you'd be on his side." Wolfe said plainly, "I'm _not_ on Archie's side. His actions were stupid and careless. I told him last night that he could have hurt any number of people when he pulled the trigger, including Miss Blake. That being said, however, you still need to tell me how you knew he was pointing the gun in her direction." "Well…I didn't…I guess. But I was scared. Seeing her lying there…" Wolfe interrupted, "As I said, understandable, yet Archie told me that he knew he was facing the stage and that Miss Blake was behind him." "Again, how did he know?"

I answered, "When all of that started, I was checking the first couple of chairs in the second row, center section, for the kind of white thread that Miss Blake found further back. I immediately stood up and when the shadow I shot at appeared, those chairs were on my left and my feet were on a downward slant. This means I was facing the stage and Miss Blake was behind me." Jones responded in frustration, "Archie, you were as spooked as I was. You could really tell your feet were pointing down?" "Believe it or not, yes! Even though I didn't know what the shadow was, I was tracking it properly before I fired." Wolfe said to me sharply, "If you didn't know what it was, why the devil did you shoot?" "That was obviously a mistake, Mr. Wolfe," I replied humbly. "The thing is that the shadow was much larger than a person, so in my panic, I figured I wouldn't hit anyone. I see now that was a ridiculous assumption." "As do we all, Archie," Wolfe said Acerbically.

I turned to Jones and apologized, "You're absolutely right. What I did was asinine. It was also out of character for me. I'm usually cool as a cucumber in stressful situations. Then again, I'm usually confronted by a human killer and not ghostly lights and noises. I also owe you an apology, Mr. Wolfe." "Apologies are all well and good, Archie, but I need to be convinced that you will focus harder and that you and Mr. Jones can get back to working together and not be at each other's throats." I protested at his first point, "Come on, Mr. Wolfe. I've been working for you for years and years, and you've had implicit trust in me for all of that time. I can't believe one mistake, as horrible as it was, would make you doubt me that much. As for getting back on good terms with Jones, I'm willing to if he is," looking over at the young man. He once again looked down at the floor, and not at me.

Wolfe eventually broke the silence, "Mr. Jones, the ball is in your court. Archie's right that I have trusted him in nearly all of my cases, and one horrific error does not change this. You certainly do not know him that well, so I understand your trepidation, but you and he worked well when we started this case, and I believe that can continue if you focus on the task at hand, solving the mystery at the Marquis Star." Nervously, Jones answered, "But the gang decided to move on." With an air of disbelief, Wolfe retorted, "Really. When did you discuss this with them?" "Um, last night, of course." "How many of them agreed with you?" Jones became quite startled by the question and kept looking around the room, then blurted, "It was unanimous." "Is that so? Perhaps I should bring them in one at a time, including Scooby-Doo, and see if they confirm your claim." Feigning arrogance, Jones said, "That's fine. They're right in the next room, anyway, so they've heard all of this." "Not so, Mr. Jones. The front room is soundproof," Wolfe explained, not revealing the fact that the wall between it and the office has a secret panel which can be opened to allow eavesdropping if necessary. "You can go into the kitchen and Archie can begin the process if you would like." Defeated, Jones replied, "No, that's okay." "Very well. I think the next order of business is to get everyone in here and figure out what to do next. Mr. Jones, from what I've observed so far, you have leadership potential, but you need to put away your emotions to reach it. I also think having women in your crew is problematic."

At Wolfe's remarks about the girls, Jones sat straight up and snapped back, "Mr. Wolfe, how can you say that? They are very valuable in solving our mysteries. Daphne has a good curiosity that points us in directions we never would have thought of otherwise, and a natural intuition. And you saw Velma's intelligence right here in this room the other night! You loved that she knew about Montenegro." "I take your point about Miss Dinkley, and I apologize to her. However, Miss Blake may have the qualities you say she does, but she is causing the problems between you and Archie." Astonished, Jones asked Wolfe, "You're really saying what happened yesterday is _her_ fault?" "No, Mr. Jones, it is not her _fault_. She can't help being such a distraction for both of you, and I will admit _all_ attractive women are distractions for Archie. Even so, I truly believe she is a detriment to this investigation, and I have always been wary of female detectives, as well." Jones retorted indignantly, "Yes, sir, you like to hold onto old-fashioned ideas. You know those beliefs are flying out the window nowadays, right?" "Old-fashioned they may be, but they have served me well since I became a detective long before you were born. Nonetheless, this is only my opinion, and Miss Blake is part of your team. I cannot ask you to stop using her, even though I would recommend it."

Turning to me, Wolfe said, "Now, Archie, please get Fritz to help you put the chairs in their normal positions, then bring the others in here." It took about fifteen minutes to rearrange the seats, and Wolfe moved Jones into the red leather chair as I headed to the front room. In turn, Wolfe asked Miss Dinkley, Miss Blake and Rogers for their report on everything that took place at the theater. Of course, Scooby-Doo frequently interjected in his unique way, or should I say, "roo-reek ray?" The one notable thing about the interrogation was that Wolfe was slightly taken aback about Miss Dinkley not being aware that she was standing on a trap door when I asked her to signal us from the stage. I secretly wondered if my boss had feelings a little beyond respect for her. Wolfe also asked each of them if they wished to continue on the case. To a person, they said "yes" enthusiastically.

As was the case with our first meeting, lunchtime rolled around while we were talking. When I asked the gang if they wanted to go back to Charlie's, Wolfe snarled, "Phooey!" As we all stared in amazement, he continued, "Because of short notice, Archie and I had to improvise on finding lunch for you the other day. Today, however, when It became apparent that all of you would be here this morning, I ordered Fritz to make enough of his magnificent cooking for everyone…everyone except Scooby-Doo, of course. Archie, what did he eat at Charlie's?" "Well, Mr. Wolfe, to be honest, the same stuff the kids ate." Wolfe's eyes opened wider than I had ever seen, and he exclaimed, "Nonsense! No animal should ever eat what humans eat!" Scooby responded, "Reckrooz ree?" "I'm sorry, Scooby, but I'm standing firm on this. To give you some of what Fritz is making is unhealthy for you, and unnecessarily expensive." As our canine friend started to whine, I said to Wolfe, "Fritz usually has unused scraps that don't get cooked in his recipes. Perhaps he can give them to Scooby rather than throwing them away." "That hurts my soul as a connoisseur, but very well." Hearing this, Scooby gave me a really sloppy kiss and laughed.

Wolfe clarified, "That applies only to this meal. Mr. Rogers, Scooby is your dog, so please purchase a forty-pound bag of dog food for him. That will hopefully last him for a week or so." Rogers protested, "But Scoob has always eaten what we do." "Not while you are in my employ. Has he never had dog food?" Miss Dinkley said, "When he was a puppy he did, but Shaggy started spoiling him pretty quickly." Knowing it would aggravate Wolfe, I piped up, "Wait a second, you're going to give this dog a taste of the finest venison, then make him eat a bunch of dry who-knows-what from a grocery store?" Giving as good as he got, he replied, "Fine, Archie. We have many wealthy friends and acquaintances who buy the most succulent canine cuisine for their Kings and their Pookies. Please contact a couple of them, then purchase one of their recommendations. I will simply take the difference between that and a store brand out of your salary." I started to open my mouth to respond, but knew better. With the details about lunch settled, we all went into the dining room.


End file.
